


on the shoulders of giants

by spj



Series: when magic is to be taken literally [2]
Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: But not necessarily angst, Crack, Feelings, Fluff, Hah that wad a good pun, M/M, magic!kaito
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 07:08:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8614435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spj/pseuds/spj
Summary: Kaito keeps dropping hints, but Saguru's just not getting it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> tfw your comp is about to run out of battery, its 2am on a sunday night/ monday morning, but you just shit this out.  
> so i started working on this early enough in the election season that "lets dispense with this fiction" was still a joke  
> hah  
> nothing's funny now  
> apologies for all the whiplash emotions, tbh, i think hakuba isnt great in this one, but i definitely dont want to go back and edit for feelings haha  
> so, unbeta'd, mistakes and shitty hot&cold hakuba feels are mine!

Saguru doesn’t believe in magic.

He never thought it’d be something he’d actually have to _say_ ever, because _he_ , like _every other sane person in the world_ , took it as a given.

Which was why he absolutely despised Kaito Kid cases.

Granted, they’re why he’s getting a fat paycheck every month at the unripe age of twenty-two, and why he’s the center of jealousy at the Tokyo PD, and why he’s not bored out of his mind languishing at some uni in England, but still. It’s a pretty near miss.

Regardless, he was finding it very difficult to remember the euphoria of cashing in a paycheck at the end of a rough month while he was dangling by his toes in midair, twenty stories above the ground and tied to _apparently nothing_.

_What is the trick? How is he doing this?_

Saguru wracked his brains. He was a _genius_ , a certified genius in terms of the standard IQ exam which tested for analytical skills and logical thinking, so _why wasn’t the answer coming to him_?

A mocking laugh danced through the air. With a whoosh of fabric, Kaito Kid dropped until he was matching face-level with a steadily-reddening Saguru. Kid flicked Saguru on the nose. “Awww, my little detective, still trying to solve this with logic? Don’t you know that you can never understand magic with logic?”

“ _There is no such thing as magic_ ,” Saguru grit out, but he was finding it harder and harder to think linearly when all his blood was rushing to his head.

Kaito Kid just laughed and patted his head. “Until next time, then.”

And with that, he disappeared, leaving only the tortured howls of Saguru suspended in the air.

 

“Still can’t catch the world’s greatest magician?” Kuroba ribbed as Saguru slid into his seat, shaking out the morning’s news. _KAITO KID FLIES OFF WITH A SPARKLE IN HIS EYE._

Saguru hissed and rubbed his eyes.  He was exhausted. After his umpteenth failure at the Kid scene that night, he had gone straight to the station to solve a few cold cases to make himself feel better, completely forgetting that he had promised himself to lunch with his old high school classmates.

“Shut up, Kaito!” Aoko snapped.

Right. If Saguru was sensitive about Kaito Kid, then Aoko was a fucking seismograph. It was because of Kid that Detective Nakamori had nearly lost his job. Saguru was sure that if he hadn’t had about the same amount of trouble catching Kid, then Nakamori would certainly have lost his job. Saguru was equally as certain that if he hadn’t solved a third of Tokyo PD’s cold cases, and most of their current ones, he’d also be out of a job right about now.

“Sorry,” Kuroba mumbled. Smart choice, if he didn’t want to get kicked in the nuts.

Unfortunately, Akako wasn’t nearly as sensitive. “Your phony logic will never beat _real_ magic,” she crowed.

Something Aoko’s eyes snapped. “I’ll show _you_ real magic,” she growled, and nearly upset her chair in her attempt to brain Akako with a solid object.

“Wow, red panties, have a fun night planned, Aoko?” Kuroba said loudly, in what was possibly an attempt to diffuse the tension.

It failed.

Saguru grabbed Aoko’s shoulder with one hand, restraining her from carrying out her dangerous plans, and with the other, rubbed soothing circles into her back. “Aoko-san, while I’d also love to inflict bodily harm upon Akako-san and Kuroba-san, I suggest we do it outside, and after planning a perfect crime,” he said, as sympathetically as possible. He didn’t have to try very hard.

Saguru’s promise seemed to calm Aoko down. “Your plan had better be something good, Saguru-kun,” she said, eyes boring icy holes into Kuroba and Akako.

Saguru smiled humorlessly. “I’m the European Detective of Tokyo. Of course it will be.”

 

 

Of course, Saguru would have found plotting Kuroba and Akako’s slow demise a lot easier if he hadn’t found himself, where else, dangling in midair two nights later.

This was the third time in as many days he had been kidnapped by Tokyo’s one and only rising star, and he was beginning to find it all rather irritating.

“This jewel is subpar compared to what you usually steal, Kid,” Saguru said as patiently as he could as all his blood drained to his head. “Let’s dispense with this fiction that the point of hosting this heist wasn’t to single me out. What do you have to gain from leaving me here all night again?”

 “Amusement?” Kid suggested.

“You do this far too often for it to be amusing anymore,” Saguru pointed out.

Kid’s answering grin was _annoying_. “Some things never get old.”

Saguru didn’t have time for this. “You have an IQ of _four hundred_. Things get old for you _very quickly_ ,” Saguru snapped. “Kid, if you’re not going to take this seriously then let me go. I’ve been running on four hours of sleep for the last three days and I do _not_ need to spend another night _dangling in midair_.”

“Didn’t you vow to catch me?” Kid complained. “Don’t be so boring.”

“I’d be less boring if you let me sleep a full night,” Saguru hissed. “As it stands, I’m allowed to be as boring as I want.”

“But we have so much fun together, my favorite detective!” Kid whined.

“Flattery does not make me want to spend all night hanging here again!”

“Flattery? I’m not flattering you—you _are_ my favorite detective.”

Saguru rolled his eyes. They both knew that wasn’t even remotely true. Kid’s favorite detective had disappeared two years back and for some reason carried a white parasol everywhere he went; Saguru was there to provide the Tokyo PD a passible impression at competence and do most of their other work. “Yes, sure, fine, can you _please let me down_. I don’t even want to bother trying to catch you tonight. I’m running behind on my classwork, and _I want to sleep_.”

Kid paused. “Do you want a good-night kiss?”

“ _Kid_!”

Kid shrugged. “Your loss.” With an explosion of smoke, he disappeared, leaving Saguru to fumble blindly for what should be a fishing line (rope of choice for murderers and magicians alike) and finding, once again, _absolutely nothing_.

He hated his life.

 

“You look like shit,” the chief observed the next morning. “I knew we shouldn’t have burdened a kid like that. Take the week off. I don’t want to see your face in here unless it’s seven days from now, you hear? You should have hobbies other than crime-fighting, yeah?”

It was only with the last embers of his dying self-control and his habitual British stiff upper lip that Saguru restrained himself from screeching about how he was literally the only competent member of their police force, and that his age had nothing to do about it, and how he _would_ have hobbies if they _would just do their fucking jobs_.

As it were, Saguru barely grit out a “Thank you,” before limping out into the street, fully intent on going to get something to eat and compose angry letters in his head until it was an acceptable hour to fall asleep. Having a trouble-free week did sound quite nice.

Still, as the plot of Saguru’s life progresses.

Who should appear but the devil himself.

Saguru spotted Kuroba exiting some café with a pastry in his hand but no coffee. He couldn’t look away fast enough, and ended up making unwilling eye contact with the young magician.

“Saguru!” Kuroba said brightly with one of his signature grins.

“Kuroba,” Saguru growled.

For once, Kuroba seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation. “Wow, dude, you don’t look so good. The circles under your eyes are black enough to be bruises. Punching yourself in the face because Kid’s magic is still better?”

“I don’t even want to argue with you right now,” Saguru said, trying to shove Kuroba aside. It was like trying to push open a door that said “PULL.” Saguru really needed to sleep more.

Kuroba grabbed his arm to steady him, eyes narrowed with what Saguru was currently interpreting as open and hostile malice, but was probably concern. It was hard to tell. “Yeah, okay, I know you live really far from the station and it’s against my good conscience to leave an upstanding member of society out here to die, so how ‘bout we swing back to mine and I’ll make you some food, yeah? You look like you’ve been eating nothing but shitty ramen from China for months.”

 “China’s undergoing economic and political upheaval; you can’t expect their ramen to be top quality,” Saguru argued for sake of form. He didn’t actually give much of a shit about China’s economic policies. “And I’ve been eating ramen from Korea.”

“Ever the know-it-all detective,” Kuroba _tsk_ ed at him, but it sounded, god forbid, a little fond. He began dragging Saguru away in what was presumably the direction of his house. “You’re in _Japan_ now. We have the _best_ ramen. Why are you eating _imports_?”

“Don’t start with me,” Saguru sighed. Saguru didn’t want to go with him. He _didn’t_. His feet began to move anyway. Not for the first time, Saguru marveled at Kuroba’s incredible charisma. It was extraordinarily annoying.

“Wow, not even a snappy comeback?” Kuroba needled.

“Don’t you have class or something?” Saguru demanded. “Go do whatever it is you do and leave me alone.”

“I don’t have class today,” Kuroba said, eyebrow raised. “I do have a show tonight, however, so I’m killing time and preparing until then.”

“Damn.”

“Your superiors gave you the week off, didn’t they?” Kuroba guessed. “You look that much like shit, Saguru. It’s really bad.”

“You’re really making me want to go with you right now,” Saguru said faintly. It didn’t come out nearly as sarcastic as he wanted it to.

Kuroba grinned. “Of course. I’m amazing.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Saguru groaned.

Kuroba pat Saguru’s head as if he were a child. “There, there, catch a cat-nap, okay? We’ll be there soon.”

Saguru wasn’t sure what happened in-between the minutes Kuroba told him to sleep, and arriving at Kuroba’s family home. There must have been walking, and at some point they had to have boarded the tube, but Saguru couldn’t recall traveling that distance, and Kuroba’s clothes weren’t wrinkled enough for him to have carried Saguru all the way there.

The most likely answer was lack of sleep, but something about the whole situation was off. Saguru filed it away in his mind for later perusal.

“I’m home!” Kuroba called, but the lights in the house were off and no one answered. “Ah, mom must be away.”

“Did she not say anything?” Saguru said. Wasn’t it strange for a mother to leave home without telling the son who lived with her?

Kuroba shrugged. “Nah, we kinda do our own thing. It’s fine. C’mon, dining room’s this way. Make yourself comfortable.”

Even if Saguru had the energy to resist, Kuroba’s very comfortable dining room chairs were _right there_ , and he collapsed into one of them, promptly falling asleep on the table. He could feel embarrassed about it later.

“Aw.” Kaito flashed Kid’s smile at Saguru’s sleeping form. “I was looking forward to dinner.”

 

 

Saguru woke to a dark room. A glance out the window told him it had to be around three to four in the morning, and his pocket watch confirmed his guess. He slept the entire day—well, a little unsurprising, given his severe sleep deprivation, but still hardly ideal. There were three dishes covered in Saran wrap on the kitchen counter, but they were undisturbed from when they were first made—Kuroba hadn’t eaten yet. Possibly hadn’t eaten the whole day. He might have specially made other dishes for himself, of course, but that would likewise mean Kuroba made these untouched dishes specifically for Saguru, and Saguru couldn’t fathom a reason Kuroba might do that.

There was a light on in the room adjacent. Kuroba must have waited up for him.

Curiouser and curiouser indeed.

“Apologies for the intrusion,” Saguru said, stepping into the next room.

Kuroba was a painting, yellow lamplight washing over his face, curled up on the couch with a leather-bound book, white shirt untucked and black slacks ruffled. He looked like the space between Kuroba Kaito and Kaito Kid—a deep chasm in which Saguru could easily lose his way and never return.

Kuroba looked up, blue eyes glowing as if they had light of their own. “Oh, you’re awake,” he said, each word laying over the enchantment.

 _So are you_ , Saguru could have said, and it would have completed the quiet breath that passed from one life to another, linking two souls in the darkness. “Stunning deduction. That’s why I’m the detective, and you’re just a thief,” Saguru said instead, because he had the _unparalleled talent_ of ruining moments.

Kuroba laughed. “Oh, I _do_ so like you.”

“If you like me, then give me time to rest,” Saguru said, because he was already on the path to self-destruction; might as well go the whole way.

“If I had, would you have come with me?” Kuroba countered.

He may have a point there, Saguru conceded. “Are you admitting to your identity?” he said.

Kuroba smiled this time, true and wide and bold—a real expression of laughter and mirth, not simply the wicked curved edge of playing cards. “Never,” he said.

“Then I suppose neither of us shall get what we want,” Saguru said, eyes narrowing.

Kuroba raised an eyebrow in challenge, but the rest of his face shuttered off. “And what would you know about what I want?”

Saguru studied Kuroba’s empty expression in the dim lamplight. It was uncanny, almost chilling, the way Kuroba could rearrange his expression at will so that not a hint of his true thoughts remained. “I suppose,” Saguru said eventually, words heavy on his tongue, “in the end—barring, of course, a talk of philosophy—very little.”

“Quite the mystery, isn’t it?”

Saguru allowed himself to smile. “I love mysteries.” With eyes narrowed, he continued, “Just like the mystery you couldn’t have been reading with the lights down so low.”

Kuroba grinned mischievously, and the lights in the room flickered on (a hidden remote?) so the spell of the night was broken. “You caught me,” he admitted. “I was reading Mighty Atom inside of this copy of Sherlock Holmes. Out of all the detectives, he’s not my favorite.”

Caught off guard by the admission, Saguru found himself saying, “Between you and me, I prefer Agatha Christie myself.”

Kuroba threw his head back and laughed.

Saguru felt off balance. It wasn’t as if he had never heard Kuroba laugh—goodness knows the guy had spent enough time cackling as Aoko chased him through the halls—but somehow the resonant tone felt different. This laugh wasn’t exactly Kuroba Kaito, but neither was it Kid’s smooth silk either. Saguru wasn’t even sure he could call it somewhere in between. Throwing aside the superposition principle, adding the two had created something else altogether, both familiar and foreign—Kuroba Kaito, and a stranger.

He shuffled uncomfortably. Between the unfamiliarity of this new strain of interactions with Kuroba, and the harsh lights that tore bare any implicit meanings, Saguru was beginning to feel awkward standing around as he had been.

“Oh, yeah, sit wherever you want,” Kuroba said, waving a hand around.

Change of topic; escape was possible. “I’m afraid I’ve already imposed enough,” Saguru said, shifting to move to the front door.

“That’s a shame.”

The words seemed to be mocking, and Saguru’s temper broke. He whirled around and snarled, “Why? Why would it be? Were I in your position I would be _dying_ to remove you from my house. Bringing me here was a huge risk. I could have walked around the house while you were waiting for me to wake up. I could have discovered that some rooms were too small to fit the exterior. It would be _so easy_ for me to unmask you.” Saguru’s hands clenched and unclenched, and in his seething rage he had forced himself into Kuroba’s space.

Kuroba just smiled up, calm and easy. “But you haven’t, and you’re not, because you won’t be satisfied until you can pull Kaito Kid’s mask off with your own two hands.”

Kuroba’s calm demeanor bled the last of Saguru’s anger away, and Saguru abruptly felt ashamed and embarrassed about his lapse of self-control. “I apologize,” he said stiffly. “I must be more exhausted than I thought. I should go home and rest. Thank you for your hospitality, Kuroba-kun.”

He saw himself out, only pausing a moment to look at the food Kuroba had to have made for him. He shook his head, slid his feet into his shoes, and left. He needed to take a walk, and just as well if that walk took long enough for the trains to begin running again.

Kaito watched him go.

“But you didn’t even touch your food…”

 

Saguru got exactly three days of rest.

He used the time to call his mum, who was in Surrey at the moment visiting an aunt.

“But you _are_ keeping up with your studies, aren’t you, darling?” mum said, clearly distracted. She had already asked him that once about thirty seconds before.

“Yes, mum,” he said. “And how are you? Are you safe?”

She laughed, obviously unimpressed by the question. “Of course I am! You musn’t ask silly questions, boy.”

“Yes, mum,” Saguru said.

“Call your father, dear,” mum said. “And then call Joan so she doesn’t worry.”

“Mrs. Watson _doesn’t_ worry,” Saguru muttered, but did as he was told.

 

Dad was pleased to hear from him. “Saguru, my boy, how are you doing?”

And how on earth could he answer _that_ question honestly? “Well,” was all Saguru could manage. “Been sleeping more.”

“Yeah, I read in the paper that that Kid got away again, didn’t he? Well, you’ll get him eventually; I believe in you.”

“Thanks, dad,” Saguru said faintly. While his father’s support was heartening, it didn’t really do much to cut the knowledge that he would probably never catch Kaito Kid, no matter how many other criminals he put away.

“What’s that? Doubt? What did I say about doubting my instincts, son?”

“To never do so, unless necessary,” Saguru parroted back. “And like I always say, that entire sentence is a non-statement.”

“Hey now, who was the English major?”

Saguru’s eyebrows furrowed. “Neither of us.”

Dad laughed. “Just so, just so! Well, get some rest, anyway. We’ve got cases piling up here, but I heard from Nakamori that you’re doing the department a lotta good.”

Saguru smiled, a weight alleviated he didn’t know was weighing him down. “Thanks, dad.”

Saguru could hear him smile back. “Now go call Joan. She’s probably worrying, what with you being away from her for the first time and all.”

Saguru grumbled as his father disconnected. “Mrs. Watson _doesn’t_ worry.”

 

He called Mrs. Watson.

She was not worried.

 

The Thursday morning of his week off, the police department received a Kid notice, and called Saguru in.

“Sorry to cut your week off short, Hakuba-kun,” Nakamori said.

Saguru shook his head. “I was getting a little bored, anyway,” he said, offering a smile.

Nakamori snorted. “Yes, well, you won’t be bored for long. Yamazaki, get over here, and bring the note!”

“Yessir!”

Saguru settled in. It was going be a long morning. Kid’s notes were getting more and more convoluted, and Saguru was beginning to get to the point where he couldn’t figure them out in less than an hour anymore.

The note that Yamazaki brought over was in English, and ran thusly:

 _A concealed young gillie,_  
_betrayed by the night, how he must feel!_  
_Merely a grunt, Here’s the joke:_  
_Thinking he had reached second base, too._

It took Saguru twenty-two minutes and fifty-one-point-three seconds to herd the police out, and a further forty-eight minutes and twelves-point-nine seconds to solve the riddle.

“It’s a joke,” he explained to the police after gathering them, “as Kaito Kid so helpfully pointed out.

“The first part refers to the Japanese manga comic called ‘Mighty Atom,’ so we know he wants to steal the Atomic Diamond that’s being exhibited in Tokyo. It’s the second part that’s more interesting.

“‘Grunt,’ as used in North American English, is a term that means ‘a low-ranking or unskilled soldier or other worker.’ It’s a word that came about during the Vietnam War. Interestingly, in the manga ‘Mighty Atom,’ the main character Astro goes back in time to the year 1969—which, if we translate that to a time, becomes 20.09. But what of the date?

“In the last line, he says ‘base, too,’ a reference, probably, to ‘base-2,’ which is another way to refer to the binary number system. In other words, he’s telling us to look for things that involve the numbers one and zero. Taken in the context of Mighty Atom, that can only be his strength, which is measured to be one-hundred thousand horsepower.

“So we know the number is one-hundred thousand, but that doesn’t translate to a date, and the units can’t be horsepower—but, again, he tells us: it’s in seconds. One-hundred thousand seconds is approximately twenty-eight hours, so he’s telling us he’s going to strike tomorrow, at 20.09. Actually, we should consider the time to be 20.00, because he’s not a huge fan of punctuality.”

There was a pregnant pause as everyone processed Saguru’s words, and then:

“Uh, sorry, boss, but I ain’t laughin’,” one of the policemen said. “Where’s the joke?”

“He’s just referencing something he had said to me earlier,” Saguru said hastily. “It’s no big deal.”

Slightly suspicious, but willing to accept the answer, Nakamori told Saguru to arrive at the museum tomorrow. He was going to spend _all night_ preparing for that smarmy little bastard; Kaito Kid won’t escape this time!

Saguru breathed a sigh of relief that they let him off easy. How he figured out the first part of the code was a little embarrassing.

‘Gillie’ is a Scottish term that refers to someone who attends to a gentleman fishing, hunting, or deer-stalking—in other words, Kid was making a reference to a deerstalker hat, and thus Sherlock Holmes. ‘Concealed’ and ‘betrayed by the night’ referred to how Saguru had surmised Kaito couldn’t have been reading Sherlock Holmes with the lights so dim, and the only thing _that_ could have been referring to was Kaito’s Mighty Atom comic.

But to admit any of that would mean admitting he had been fraternizing with the enemy, which would probably get him fired.

Saguru sighed and buried his face in his hands.

Kaito Kid might not kill, but dealing with him was like murder.

 

  
“Impeccable performance, as usual, Saguru -kun,” Kid said, after a two-hour-long chase through three buildings and two streets. They were on a roof again. Saguru suspects Kid orchestrates the chases to end up on rooftops so that whatever he has to say next will be extra dramatic.

“We’ve added one and a half buildings and one street to the tally, so I can’t say the same for you,” Saguru challenged. Being a sore loser was kind of a pain in the ass. Saguru should really stop being one.

“Maybe I planned it that way,” Kid said.

“For what purpose? All this is doing is dragging out the proceedings; there’s no benefit to you.”

Kid flickered, then disappeared. Saguru whirled around, because Kid liked to appear right behind him and scare the living daylights from him, but even his extra precautions couldn’t help him. The brim of Kid’s hat pressed against his temple.

“I disagree,” Kid said, and Saguru could almost feel Kid’s lips on his ear. “I get to spend more time with you, after all.”

“What is your _deal_?” Saguru demanded. He didn’t turn around, because Kid would just disappear again. “You can make up better excuses than that.”

Kaito Kid made a low noise that almost sounded like frustration, if Kaito Kid ever got frustrated. “You,” he said, “are the _most_ obtuse individual I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, _including_ meitantei-kun.”

“I am _not_ obtuse,” Saguru said, offended, because of course that was the part he noticed.

“You definitely are,” Kid argued. “You didn’t even notice I was _wooing_ you!”

Saguru’s brain short-circuited. When he came back on-line, all he could manage was, “ _Wooing_? Who even says that anymore?”

Kid’s unshakable poker face snapped. “You are _literally_ the worst person in the _world_! I have had the _worst_ week! First Aoko tries to kill me, then Akako tries to roofie me—”

“Akako drugs people?” Saguru said, alarmed.

“—and now the detective I spend _literally_ all my time with can’t even take a damn _hint_! All I wanted was to see the face of my dearest Hakuba-kun to feel better about this week but _nooo_ , he’s got to be the most _oblivious_ , most _narrow-minded_ , _least imaginative person in the history of the world_!”

“Imagination doesn’t help solve crime—”

“And he’s married to his _job_!” Kaito yelled back, and Saguru suddenly had the niggling feeling that Kaito wasn’t talking about Saguru’s observational skills anymore.

Kid drifted closer to Saguru, eyes crackling with energy, and they seemed to really be… sparking? The air around Kaito began to smell of burnt ozone and Saguru instinctively leaned away. “Maybe if you had more _imagination_ you would actually be capable of catching me,” Kid sneered. “Because as you are now? You’ll never even touch me.”

And with a flash of lightning that felt too close, too hot, too dangerous to be a prop, he disappeared, leaving Saguru hanging in midair again, a distinct feeling of shame beginning to bubble in the pit of his stomach.

 

 

The police department left him alone the next day, and lucky for him, because he didn’t think he’d be able to solve his way out of a Sherlock Holmes case he’s already read.

He tried to compartmentalize, but found no matter how he tried to organize the information in his head, Kid’s last words swirled around in his mind, burning away anything that was recognizably analytical thought and filling his head with smoke.

The sinking suspicion that was in the back of his mind all the time that he might never catch Kaito Kid, that the jewel thief would be his greatest failure, was a fear that he never dared to voice, lest it become real.

But Kaito Kid had said it anyway.

How fitting that a nightmare made of smoke and mirrors might give voice to itself.

So Saguru did what he always did when he was at a loss.

He called Mrs. Watson.

“Hakuba,” she said when he was finished explaining. “While that was a lovely analysis—” (and here her voice got dry like her favorite white wine) “—I heard absolutely nothing of value.”

“But that was _everything_ of value, Mrs. Watson!” Saguru protested, and at this point he was finding it very difficult to keep calm and carry on.

Mrs. Watson paused, and Saguru knew she was giving him her patented stink-eye. “No,” she said, altogether quite calmly. “There was nothing of value there.”

“Then tell me what _is_ of value,” Saguru gritted.

Saguru heard the distinct sounds of Mrs. Watson stirring and sipping her tea and wanted to throw his phone against the wall. “Well,” Mrs. Watson finally said. “That really is up to you.”

Saguru screamed silently.

Mrs. Watson patiently waited until he was finished. “Or him.”

Saguru screamed again.

Mrs. Watson set down her tea. “Hakuba, we have been calling for exactly twenty-three minutes and forty-seven point one seconds, and you still haven’t told me why you called. I am not a woman in the habit of wasting her time.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” Saguru said out of habit. “I’m—why I’m calling? Because I can’t figure this out—”

“And what is the imperative?” Mrs. Watson interrupted. “This is hardly the first time you have been unable to unravel the mysteries of jewel thievery, and it won’t be the last. And yet this time in particular you find it necessary to waste so much of my time babbling about meaningless things, so I ask you again, Mister Hakuba, what is the imperative?”

When Mrs. Watson went out of her way to explain something like that, it was best to take her words to heart, so Saguru thanked her and hung up.

“Hakuba,” she said before they said goodbye, “I hope you don’t get hurt.”

Well.

With a caretaker like that, perhaps Saguru couldn’t have been anything _but_ a detective.

He tried to think back to the last emotion he felt before he caved and called Mrs. Watson, because after she had pointed it out, he had to admit he was acting a bit out of character. He didn’t like to call Mrs. Watson for anything besides business. To call her just to talk, just to sort out his thoughts – to say it’s never happened before was a gross understatement. There had to be something in his emotional state.

It had almost felt as though he had no control over his fingers as he dialed – as if the alternative was too terrible to bear and his mind instinctively steered him away from that path – like the smell of desperation –

 – doubt –

 – fear.

Fear that Kaito was right. Fear that, no matter what he did, he would never be good enough – that he was just fundamentally inferior to Kaito’s genius.

That Kaito would find him unworthy.

“Ah,” he said.

He understood.

Certainly, he worried that he might never catch Kaito Kid, but to be quite frank, that would only bring the tiniest bit of satisfaction to him. He already knew Kid’s identity. The largest mystery was already unraveled. His interest as a detective was at this point, merely cursory.

But that was just it – he _worried_. He worried over something that didn’t even matter to him, so the question was then, why? The answer was simple: if it wasn’t him, then it was something outside of him. And it didn’t take a genius to figure out what _that_ was.

Kaito had never spat contempt at him before.

In other words, he cared what Kaito thought of him.

Delightful.

Right, so now that that was out of the way, Saguru had to decide what he was going to do – or not do –  about it. The way he saw it, there were two options: either he continued to care what Kaito thought of him, or he stopped caring what Kaito thought of him.

The latter would definitely be better for his work.

But the former seemed important, somehow.

Saguru rubbed at his forehead. Feelings. He’d take a murder over feelings any day.

 

A month passed with no Kaito Kid case. Saguru guessed Kaito might be sulking. That was fine, because Saguru, if he was being honest with himself (which, let’s face it, he wasn’t), was probably sulking too. He caught a serial rapist by vengefully tipping a row of bookcases onto him, prompting Nakamori to ask with some hesitation, if he was okay.

“I’m fine,” Saguru said petulantly, kicking the last bookshelf with so much force, Nakamori winced. “I’m fine.”

“Go back to the station, kid,” Nakamori said, all but pushing Saguru out the door. He was probably afraid Saguru would straight up punch the criminal if Saguru remained for a moment longer. “We’ll pack up from here. You can punch out after you finish the paperwork.”

Saguru agreed. Nakamori’s fears were a little reasonable, probably.

He stomped the rest of the way back. Not knowing how to proceed was the most irritating thing in the world. Action, he wanted clear, reasonable action. He hated this uncertainty – not knowing what Kid was thinking, not knowing what Kid _wanted_ , not knowing how his own actions could be interpreted – without a clear pro-con list his own mental faculties were falling apart.

Not knowing, not knowing, not knowing….

“That’s it!” Saguru stopped in the middle of the street, smacking his fist into his palm, only vaguely aware he looked like a lunatic. “Not _knowing_!”

He took off for the police station at a run.

There’s only way to fix a lack of information: by gathering more.

 

“Are you sure this will work?” Nakamori said, peering over Saguru’s shoulder at the computer screen.

 _Dear Mr. Suzuki_ …

“Yes,” Saguru said, pressing the send button with a determination he didn’t entirely feel. “It will.”

 

A note arrived the very next day.

 

Saguru didn’t go to the heist. Not exactly. He sent off the location and time to Nakamori, letting the man know he wouldn’t be able to attend, but wished him luck. He chose instead to visit a nearby rooftop – the roof of a department building a block away from the actual heist site. (He had noticed Kid tended to end up on rooftops, and 87% of the time it was a building to the West of the heist site.)

The night air had grown cold with the coming frost. Saguru’s breath was coming out in cloudy puffs, and he was grateful for Mrs. Watson’s attention to his hat and gloves.

He heard the flapping of Kid’s cape before he saw him. He didn’t say anything.

“What’s the point of calling me out, Hakuba, if this is such a waste of your time?”

Ah, Kaito was using his last name. He must really be mad.

“I’m…” Saguru took a deep breath. “ _Red sky at night, sailor’s delight; red sky in the morning, Neptune’s warning. Show me your wings, how you fall, how you fall, when there’s nothing to catch you, no, nothing at all_ ,” he recited carefully. “Red sky at night refers to the blood moon tonight. Neptune is the eighth planet in the solar system, so you’d come at eight o’clock tonight. Repeated references to red are because the exhibit on tonight is the Suzuki’s red ruby collection. You didn’t need the second verse. You were… you were….”

Kid waited.

Saguru’s words stuck in his throat, and when they wouldn’t come out, he slid back to familiar rationalizing. “There’s a number of mythical creatures that have wings, but the repeated references to falling imply mischief, and the most common association with wings and mischief are fairies. You’re telling me you’re a fairy.”

Silence.

“Is that all?” Kid said impassively. He turned away and began to melt into the darkness. “I’ll leave you to your rest, then.”

Oh, no, no, no, this isn’t what Saguru wanted at all, this isn’t – what did he want? “I – ” he called out, before hesitating. Kid was about to disappear; he didn’t have time. “I believe you,” he said, mouth working quickly, faster than his mind could catch up. “There’s never any string when you tie me up, not even fishing line,” he said. Kid began to reappear from the shadows, taking step after step towards Saguru as Saguru backed away. “One time you carried me back to your home and I don’t even remember what happened along the way. Sometimes your eyes glow, even when there’s no light. Sometimes you smell like lightning,” Saguru choked out as Kid backed him right into the railing.

“And?” Kaito demanded. “I’m so sick and _tired_ of your power games, Saguru – ”

His first name – !

Filled with a sudden rush of confidence, Saguru pushed back at Kaito, so they were standing on even ground. “When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth,” Saguru said, looking Kaito straight in the eye.

A slow smile spread on Kaito’s lips as Saguru continued, “I’ve eliminated the impossible.”

“I hope that’s Saguru-speak for ‘I like you,’ Kaito announced,” pulling his hat and monacle off in one smooth motion. “Because I’m about to kiss you.”

“Please,” Saguru said, and they met each other’s lips in the middle.

Saguru noticed Kaito slipping the red ruby into his pocket, but let it slide, choosing instead to pull Kaito closer by the waist.

There were more important things to deal with at this moment.

 

KID LEAVES RUBY WITH MISSING DETECTIVE, the headlines read.

Aoko tore the newspaper to shreds in front of a laughing Akako. “Where were you last night?” she demanded of Saguru. “You never miss a heist! Oh, wait, were you sick? Are you okay?” she realized belatedly.

“I’m fine, Miss Aoko,” Saguru said, brushing his lips across the back of her hand.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re in a suspiciously good mood today.”

Saguru smirked at Kaito, who smirked back.

“Of course,” Saguru said to Aoko. A warm wind blew through his hair, and he felt as though he was standing on the shoulders of Atlas. “I’m one step closer to catching a thief.”

**Author's Note:**

> hey, drop me a line if you liked~


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